by Mira Stables
Clemency confessed to disappointment. She had rather looked forward to confounding him by her competence. A little of the savour went out of life as she accepted his decision with every appearance of indifference and turned away to separate Alastair and Gavin who were settling a fraternal argument as to which of them had created the better turnip lantern in the time honoured fashion of small boys.
Piers went home to his solitary meal, until the silence became so oppressive that he decided to drive over to Ash Croft and acquaint his neighbour with the progress he had made.
The living-room at Ash Croft was as shabby as ever, but a cheerful fire was burning on the hearth and the light of three candles illuminated the pretty picture of father and daughter at their chess table with an air of homely comfort far removed from the gloomy chill of that first visit. He apologised for the lateness of his call and begged to be allowed to watch the final stage of the battle that was being fought out. He quite expected to see Prudence permit her father to win, so was intrigued and delighted when she herself emerged the victor, and added his congratulations to her flushed enjoyment as she declared that he must have brought her luck, since Papa had won consistently over the past five nights.
“Of course he did,” grinned Papa. “His coming distracted me, else I had not moved my bishop so rashly. Now, my boy, you cannot plead haste or an anxious aunt tonight, so let us crack a bottle at our leisure. It may help to sweeten the business talk that I feel is impending,” and he grimaced resignedly.
Since Piers’s own cellars had furnished the Chambertin that he was invited to open — no female could be trusted to handle wine properly — he hoped that this prophecy would prove true. Certainly the talk would need careful management.
Mr. Longden having approved the idea of having his wife’s trinkets valued by the famous Ludgate jewellers, Piers proceeded to the far more delicate business of explaining the terms of the proposed loan.
His bankers, he said, had recommended to him a Mr. Jackson, a gentleman who combined the solid worth of a wealthy merchant with some of the eccentricity allowable in one who had travelled widely in the Orient. This client was willing to purchase the jewels outright, or, if Mr. Longden preferred it, to advance an agreed sum payable in equal proportions over the next three years against the security of the jewels, which were to be deposited with Rundell and Bridge until their full value had been paid over. They could be redeemed by their present owner at any time during this period should he find himself in a position to do so. There was one unusual proviso to the arrangement. Under no circumstances would Mr. Jackson agree to the payment of interest. It transpired that during his travels in the East he had been deeply impressed by the Moslem teaching that usury was sinful, and had set his face firmly against it in his own dealings.
Piers studied his host’s attentive countenance in considerable anxiety as he came to the end of this smooth if improbable recital. He wished he had thought to invent a name less prosaic than Jackson for his imaginery eccentric. Blakeney or Devereux or something equally high sounding might have carried more conviction, but he had been thinking of his return passage and the name Jackson had come naturally into his mind. Would the tale pass muster, even with a man who admitted that he had no head for business?
“How very unusual,” said Mr. Longden with deep interest. “I had no idea that these — unbelievers, I suppose we should call them — applied such lofty principles in business dealings. It seems wholly admirable and should be a lesson to all of us. I look forward to closer acquaintance with your Mr. Jackson.”
Piers swallowed a mouthful of burgundy with more haste than its quality merited. “Not ‘my’ Mr. Jackson,” he temporised smoothly. “I am not personally acquainted with him, and I rather fancy he is off on his travels again soon, but Coutts speaks highly of him and will be pleased to make all the necessary arrangements. As for the valuation representative, he is to come down in about ten days’ time. I will arrange for his accommodation at the Woolpack. You will not wish to be bothered with him here. Tell me, how do you go on, now that Miss Longden has deserted you for the Manor? I hear from my aunt that she is quite invaluable, and that the boys are her devoted slaves.”
Chapter Nine
THE tap room at the Woolpack offered a very cosy refuge from the dank chill of the November night, but the two customers who had arrived at dusk and appropriated the best seats in the wide chimney place did not join in the barrage of friendly chaff that rose and fell around them. Perhaps they were weary with long travel. Certainly they were both hungry and thirsty, demolishing an astounding number of the landlord’s famous mutton pies and then settling down to a steady consumption of strong ale that evoked both admiration and envy from their neighbours. One or two attempted with naïve cunning to draw them out as to their business and destination, but with no success. The elder of the two answered direct questions civilly but revealed nothing of interest. When asked the state of the roads they had travelled, he said that all roads were bad and some were worse, but did not specify which. An enquiry from the smith as to any fresh news of the highwaymen who were rumoured to be active in the neighbourhood evoked a disbelieving grunt. The traveller then said sourly that he had heard tales a-plenty about such folk, but had yet to meet one.
The villagers set him down as a surly fellow and gave up in disgust. His companion spoke not at all, but maybe that was because he was of a superior station in life. He was dressed very gentlemanly in a fine mulberry cloth coat. A fine figure of a man, with powerful thighs and shoulders, and handsome enough in the dark-eyed full-blooded style. The serving maids were already discussing him in snatched whispers amid their dutiful scurryings, and had reached the conclusion that he was some young nob on the run, for they were sure he was quality make, and what would such a one be doing at the Woolpack if he were not in some sort of trouble? He reminded Dolly of the play by the travelling actors that her aunt had taken her to see. The hero had been just such a one, and it had all ended lovely, with him rescuing a lost heiress and then turning out to be a duke in disguise.
Peg cared not a fig for fine romances, her interests being of a more earthy turn. But those full red lips looked as though they could kiss a lass fit to stir the blood. She determined to set herself in his way if chance offered and flaunt her curves and dimples, and then gave chance a little assistance by being conveniently to hand when the ale in his tankard needed replenishment. Nor was her stratagem wasted, the young buck who had so taken her fancy eyeing her up and down with a knowledgeable glance that set her blushing and bridling. As she set down the new filled tankard on the bench before him, his hand came out to grasp her plump arm, and he murmured softly in her ear, “Art a tempting armful, sweetheart, with a mouth made for kisses. Shouldst not be wasting thy young sweetness serving ale to these oafs. I could show thee a better life, where thy beauty should go clad in silk.”
The bold black eyes were intent on Peg’s rosy face. The hand on her arm suddenly tightened its grip and jerked her towards him. She stumbled and fell against his broad chest wit a squeal of pretended protest, and shivered blissfully as he kissed her moist pink lips with casual greed. There was some laughter from the company, but the ribald comment that would normally have greeted such an incident was not forthcoming. There was something discouraging about the stranger’s bearing.
He seemed to sense the stiffness in the atmosphere and released the girl with a valedictory slap on the rump and a smile, saying, with a flash of while teeth, “Shall a man be blamed for tasting such sweetness when it falls into his arms?” before turning his shoulder on the delighted Peg and fixing his gaze on the fire once more.
The older man scowled and muttered uneasily, but since no one seemed to have taken offence over the careless kiss relaxed again and supped his ale, though his keen eyes followed the flirtatious Peg with sour dislike. A proper lightskirt that one, he brooded, ready for a tumble with any lusty lad. Else Dan might have brought a bees’ byke about their heads, so free as he’d handled
her. Likely no harm would come of it, but there was no denying that Dan’s greed for women was a weakness. Once already it had brought them close to disaster. It would have to be watched.
He spoke sternly to his fellow traveller as they made their preparations for the night in the Woolpack’s homely bedchamber. His own toilet was simple, just the kicking off of his muddy boots and the removal of coat and breeches. He had washed and shaved that very morning at Dan’s insistence and saw no need for further ablutions.
Dan turned a deaf ear to his dismal forebodings, stripped to the buff, and commenced a vigorous splashing in the warm water brought him by the yearning Peg, after which he checked the priming of a serviceable looking pistol and tucked it under his pillow.
Harry eyed the weapon with disfavour. “And that’s another thing. You’re a sight too handy with that pop of yours. Why did you have to go shooting that poor devil Thomson when he went for you? What’s more I don’t blame him. Any man as was a man would have tried to do for you. That brat of his that you forced was no more than eight years old, and how you can fancy such chicken meat is more than I can see. But no matter for that. What I says and what I sticks by is that there was no need to go shooting him. What’s more it’s made Alverstock too hot to hold us.”
Dan yawned widely, showing his magnificent teeth, and stretched powerful arms luxuriously. “You’re a fool, Harry. Thomson had to die. He’d have betrayed us as fast as he could get to the nearest roundhouse. And don’t tell me he was in the business as deep as any of us. Of course he was — but he’d not have cared for that so long as he could have made sure that I’d swing along of him.”
“Then why couldn’t you let his miserable skinny brat alone?”
A smile that was wholly evil curved the mouth that had set Peg’s heart a-flutter. “Because I like ’em little and frightened, Harry boy,” he said softly. “When they struggle and weep and beg for mercy, I like it all the more. That silly wench below stairs with her mouth all a-slobber, there’s plenty of her sort. I take ’em, see, if I’m in the mood, for a gentleman should always oblige a lady, but there’s little pleasure in it. No. It’s chicken meat for me, Harry, as you so aptly phrased it. I’ve a dainty palate. Small and young and terrified.”
Harry looked at him curiously. Over the months of their association he had come to accept most of Dan’s peculiarities. Some of them — his ability to ape the gentleman for instance — were very useful. His refusal to use cant or foul language, his preoccupation with his appearance, above all the frequency with which he washed, had even made Harry think him a bit of a fop. He knew better now. The man was rock hard. He would rob, disable, murder, quite unmoved by the agonies of his victims, and his cool nerve and inventive mind had lifted the pair of them out of many a tight corner. His only known weakness was his appetite for women, but since there were plenty of willing fools eager to succumb to his handsome face and practised love making, Harry saw no harm in his leader satisfying the natural lusts of a virile man so long as such preoccupations did not distract him from business.
But this was something different again; something twisted and rotten. Harry, who regarded violence and murder as practical necessities in the search for gain, was suddenly sickened by this gloating over the pain and terror of a puny girl child. Furtively, behind his back, he made the age old sign against evil, learned from his mother in the days of his innocence. Then he shrugged off his revulsion and changed the subject.
“Where’s the booberkin?” he demanded, as Dan stretched himself on the bed and blew out the candle.
“With the horses at the Wyke barn,” grunted Dan, digging himself into a more comfortable position. “He’s not due here till tomorrow forenoon. The grey was to be tricked out as a piebald and Rufus becomes a black. No one’ll recognise that pair when Overing’s done with them. He’s most as good as he claimed to be. Let alone his handiness with the clippers and dye-pot, he can even manage Lucifer.”
“I don’t trust him,” growled Harry jealously. “First time he sees the claret flow in earnest he’ll be struck all of a heap. Lily livered for all his big talk.”
Dan yawned again. “It’s no matter. He knows naught to harm us. If he does become a nuisance —” He allowed the sentence to trail off into the darkness. “Meanwhile we bide quietly here. I’ve a fancy to size up the lay of the land before we go to work.”
“That’s well enough,” said Harry, “but slumming kens is what I don’t hold with. I’d as lief put my head in a trap. I like the open road and a good beast between my knees.”
“You’ll have a rope round your neck, never mind your head in a trap, if you use that thieves’ cant here,” snapped Dan. “We’re two decent sober fellows on the look out for some promising young stock, such as’ll make good sound hunters when they’ve filled out a bit, and don’t you forget it. Gives us a good reason for looking around, and by the time we’re ready to do the job these dumb cattle’ll have got so used to seeing us about they’ll pay no heed to our comings and goings. I’ll admit I’d like a bit more information myself, but a man must make do with what he can get, and all that Barney could tell us was that the sparkle merchant was booked on next Friday’s coach. All we’ve to do is stick to his track. Like as not he’ll take the stuff back with him and it should be a simple enough job to relieve him of his burden. But whether it falls out that way, or whether we have to break into the old gager’s house, we’re having those sparklers, or my name’s not Dan Pelly.”
“And the lad knows nothing?”
“D’you take me for a fool? He thinks we’re out to stop a few chaises, hold up the Mail, maybe, and is all set to be a romantical daredevil — when his teeth stop shattering with fright. He’s no use to us, ’cept for tending the nags. A deal of flash talk, but no bottom.”
Since this was precisely Harry’s own opinion of young Overing’s capabilities, he said no more, and presently his peaceful snores indicated that he had abandoned further mental effort for the time being.
Chapter Ten
FAITH came dancing into the still-room where Clemency, with a very housewifely air, was tying up pots of crabapple jelly, holding each to the light to ensure that no trace of murky brown marred its rosy perfection.
“Darling, darling Clee,” she bubbled. “The most wonderful thing. Please say I may go. Papa will agree if you do!”
“Go where, rattlepate?”
“To London,” breathed Faith ecstatically. “With the Gordons. Mrs. Gordon thinks I would be a suitable friend and companion for Priscilla, and even Nurse MacNab says that I have been a help with the boys. Of course I wouldn’t get a salary like you, but Papa would be spared the cost of my keep. Lady Eleanor approves the scheme and says it is time I learned how I should go on in Society. And oh, Clee! On the way we are to stay in York for a sennight with some cousins, and Mrs. Gordon has promised she will take Priscilla and me to the play. We are too young for the Assemblies she says, but it will be perfectly proper for us to go to the play if it is a respectable one. Cilia says she will lend me her brown sarsenet which is too tight for her, and with my gold locket and chain I shall look quite the thing. Please, please, dearest of sisters — say that I may go!”
Clemency could not help feeling the bite of envy. If only she, too, were off on her travels into the wider world that beckoned so alluringly! York and London might sound humdrum compared with her girlish dreams of travels that should put even Lady Hester Stanhope to shame, but she had never seen either city, and the thought of the journeying and the fresh sights to be seen filled her heart with longing.
She set down the last pot of jelly with a steady hand and smiled at her glowing little sister. “I’m sure Papa will agree,” she said gently. “It is just what he would wish for you. But we shall have to bustle about to have you ready in time. You must have one or two new gowns. And you will need some money in your pocket. You cannot be dependent on the Gordons for every penny.”
The child deserved the treat. Her sunny nature and equable
temper had endeared her to the whole family, else the generous offer had never been made. But Faith’s going would also mark the end of her own usefulness. Lady Eleanor would be eager to resume her own responsibilities once her relatives were gone. But repining would do no good, and no doubt this was all part of being independent. One found a post which suited like a glove, and then had to move on when no longer needed. Resolutely she bent her mind to the problem of equipping Faith decently for a visit of unspecified duration.
There was scant time for brooding during the few remaining days of the Gordons’ stay. Clemency found herself occupied far into the night with sewing and packing, so that it was almost with relief that she stood beside Lady Eleanor waving farewell as the coach rolled away down the avenue. As the second coach carrying the luggage and Nurse with the boys and baby Caroline passed out of sight at the end of the road, she drew a deep sigh and turned to Lady Eleanor with a rather tremulous smile.
“That’s right, my dear,” said the elder lady encouragingly. Let her go without foolish tears. They would only dim her happiness, and you know very well that it is great good fortune that Chloe should have taken such a fancy to her. She will look after her as your mother would have done. You need have no fears for your sister when she is in the care of mine.” And laughing a little at this mild pleasantry, she drew Clemency back into the house, saying kindly, “Now we shall have a comfortable coze together before we set about the task of putting all to rights again.”
With the house so full Lady Eleanor had not had the opportunity of confidential talk with her nephew. She wondered if he had been further inspired with regard to his protégée’s future. She had never before known him to show such interest in any female. It was a pity that his admiration for the girl’s brave spirit was not likely to lead to a warmer concern, but he had shown no sign of trying to fix his interest with her. Perhaps he was still resolved that marriage was not for him. Briskly she demissed idle speculation and spoke of the furbishing up of the guest rooms that she had in mind for the next few days. In carrying out this task, Clemency’s hands and feet were certainly kept busy, but her mind was all too frequently free to ponder a desolate future.
